


Secretary’s Day

by vissy



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-29
Updated: 2004-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-02 03:09:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vissy/pseuds/vissy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s just a silly Hallmark holiday, but someone’s forgotten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secretary’s Day

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LaT’s ["Isn't It Iconic?" Ficlet-A-Thon](http://latxcvi.livejournal.com/174476.html). Based on Doyle's [icon](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v204/cista/vissy/secretary.jpg).

There was a crossbow pointed at his chest. Nothing to worry about. Big chest. Small heart. And Harmony couldn’t aim through all those tears anyhow, right?

Tears?

Angel pushed back from his desk and stood up slowly. The crossbow didn’t move, which meant it was now pointed at his groin. Huh. “Harmony? Is there a problem?”

The tears overflowed, streaming down her face in mascara-y dribbles. Her chest started hitching in a disturbingly bouncy fashion. Through the sobs, he heard, “Number one boss, my…_bottom_!”

Angel didn’t get a chance to address Harmony’s grievance; she swiped a hand across her wet face, releasing (by accident, he hoped) the bolt high into his left thigh.

They both hiccupped in surprise, and then jumped when they heard a loud knock. Harmony dropped the crossbow, scrambling for the door. Lorne leapt back to avoid an armful of damp, fleeing vampire, then stepped inside the office, closing the door behind him. Angel stared at him with what he hoped was a stoic expression. Lorne raised one red brow, and Angel sat down in his chair with a whimper.

“Let me guess, Angel cake. You deserved it.”

Angel resented that. Particularly since he had no idea what was going on. “These are my good pants.”

“That was your good thigh.”

“Um. Ow.”

“I can imagine.” The bolt was still quivering. So was Angel’s left thigh. Lorne stepped over to help remove the encumbrance. “You know, I heard that Harmony had not only given Rudy a finger today, she’d given him The Finger. Which didn’t sound like our little ray of incandescence at all. I feared the worst.” The bolt came out with a squish and a wiggle. Angel bore the pain manfully. “Angel, it’s April 21. We are rapidly reaching the end of Administrative Professionals Day. With one notable exception, every PA in the building has been smothered in flowers and voodoo kits and Bath &amp; Body Works gift certificates.”

“Administrative what?”

“Secretary’s Day, you big lug,” said Lorne, tapping Angel between the brows with the wet bolt. “You were supposed to do the nice. I gave Danny a gorgeous bouquet and took him to lunch at Antonio’s for spinach enchiladas.”

Angel had noticed a lot of delivery boys dashing around Wolfram and Hart with gift baskets today. He’d meant to ask Harmony what was going on. “Why didn’t Harmony tell me what was going on?”

Lorne sighed. “Lucky for the rest of your body, Harmony’s golden rule is forgive and forget. Where’s your computer? We’d better whistle up Blue Mountain and get a card to her before she leaves.”

“Blue…what?”

“Don’t worry, I have an account.” Angel watched the green fingers fly over the keyboard, impressed despite his present state of pain and befuddlement. “Let’s see, holidays…admin professionals…ooh, this one’s cute. Do you like it?”

“It’s a turtle.”

“And it’s waving! Aw, she’ll love it.” Angel was dubious, but motioned Lorne to continue. “Dear Harmony, blah blah, thanks for your valuable contribution to our success, more blah, signed Angel (very blah!)” Angel scowled, and Lorne gave him a conciliatory elbow nudge. “Kidding. Bygones. Okay, typing, sending…and…done! One e-card, on its way. That’ll take some of the heat off you.”

“Can I go now?”

“Not so fast, missy. We need to organise a gift.” They sat and pondered, until Lorne snapped his fingers in triumph. “Franklin Mint! They’ll have something suitably ghastly.” He started typing once more. “I wonder what would happen if I put in ‘unicorn’?” They stared at the screen in wonder as Franklin Mint’s search facility regurgitated something called a Unicorns of the New Age Crystal Ball. It was $245. It was hideous.

“At least it’s not a turtle,” said Angel.

“She must have it,” said Lorne.

“You don’t think it’s inappropriate?” asked Angel, still shattered by the price and the horror. And the price. “What’s our company policy on gifts? Shouldn’t I run it by the human demon resource department?”

“No time to waste. Administrative Professionals Day only goes on for…well, a week. And you should think about taking Harmony to lunch tomorrow.”

“But Harmony and I don’t eat.”

“That’s no excuse.”

Suddenly they heard a piercing scream outside, followed by the skittering of high-heeled feet. Harmony burst through the door and threw her arms around Angel. “I thought you’d forgotten,” she sniffled.

“As if I’d forget,” Angel scoffed, as Lorne minimised the Franklin Mint website with a smile. It looked like someone had just found a waving turtle in her inbox.


End file.
